I Wish Things were Different
by jacklynngrey17
Summary: Anastasia Steele struggling with the strong urge to resist and be with Christian Grey. She wants and needs him more than anything, but what hurts her the most is the fact that he's just so fucked up. Wishing things were different, craving they were, she leaves him. "Maybe in another world we could love," Little does she know Christian cant wait that long.
1. Chapter 1

"_I thought I was the reason you are in the world. I wish my smile was your favorite kind of smile. I wish you couldn't figure me out but you always wanna know that I was about. I wish you'd hold my hand when I was upset. I wish you'd never forget the look on my face when we first met. Basically, I wish you loved me. I wish you needed me. I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake. I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep. I wish you wouldn't have lied. I wish things were different. I wish you'd miss me, because God knows I miss you more than anything._ " ~

The Nicest Things Lyrics.

He slides into me and waits while the pain subsides from my end. And all the feel good emotions I held are thrown out the window. I feel guilty, and dirty, and I want to cry.

I don't want it.

I let out a sob and close my eyes as the tears stream, "Christian, please get off."

"Anastasia?" I can tell that his brow must be creased with confusion, but I can't look at him – I can't even look at myself.

"Please stop, I don't want too. Please get off!" I start to panic.

"Ana, what's wrong?" his voice worried.

I begin to struggle, "Stop! STOP!" I sob, pushing him away to sit up. He drapes a blanket over my shoulder.

I cry hard into my hands. I feel dirty and cheap, and feel like garbage. I promised myself I wouldn't end up like Carla, and look at what I'm doing; losing my virginity like a whore for a good-looking man? What have I lowered myself to? I can't breathe, I feel dirty, and – and – I hate myself.

"Well, that's a first. I've never had a women cry before the sex." He jokes warily. "Anastasia, what's going on?" he touches my back.

"Don't touch me," I sob, "I don't want to, I don't want to," I keep repeating.

"We don't have to," his voice calm.

"We can't do this, I don't want to," I begin to pull on my disregarded clothes from the floor. "I don't want this."

I basically run into Christian's master bathroom, leaving him sitting on his bed a confused mess.

Running my fingers through my hair I try to pull my brown locks into a ponytail, using a rubber band I've found on his bathroom sink. My stomach turns when I look at the reflection staring back at me; the woman red eyed and pink cheeked, looking a mess. I swallow as I close my eyes and look away.

I let out a lung full of breath as I sit on the covers toilet seat.

'_We're going to rectify the situation_.'

I sniff, '_Situation_,' like losing my innocence was some obstacle for a game. I know it seemed odd at the moment – though, I still agreed – but now it just sounds sickening.

There's a tap on the bathroom door.

"Anastasia, I know what you must be feeling right now – you feel ashamed, and guilty, and stained."

I continue to listen to his voice.

He sighs, "I'll be outside when you're ready to come out."

I don't know how long it takes me to calm down, but I stay in the bathroom for minutes longer. Trying to muster up the strength to face him and leave. When he arrived at Claytons he was so smooth with his words. And when I interviewed him it was like a door was opening for me – sure he was confident and controlling but I would be lying if I tried to say that I didn't feel for him when I stumbled into his office. I envisioned _such_ a different type of relationship with him.

Fully dressed in my earlier attire I unlock the door and step out – on guard if he decided to stay in his room.

Walking into the hall, and making my way through the maze he calls a home, I gasp when a pair of hands grip my shoulders, causing me to stop before I bump into him.

My eyes run up the tall stature of the guy that was going to introduce me into a different kind of life style. His words earlier bombard my ears, '_I want to make love to you_.' I hold back a sob.

It takes a while for either of us to say anything; him waiting for me, and me waiting for the nerve.

I raise my eyes back up to his, "I'm so sorry for what happened back there," I point back with my thumb, "I freaked out and – and – I'm sorry. I can't imagine how I made you feel to -,"

He cups my face with his hand, "Not for one second think about how I feel. I was thoughtless and I apologize in advance for not taking in your feelings. It all must have been over whelming for you."

I nod sheepishly, "I wish things were different, but I just couldn't find it in myself…" I can't even finish my sentence.

He nods sadly in understanding, looking as if it's as hard for him to hear than for me to say.

I frown, "Christian, I think I should leave now." I say, knowing that this'll be the last time I'll ever see him.

Without giving me heads up he crushes me to his body and hugs me tightly, his arms wrap around my shoulders and mine around his torso. I pull my head away so I can see his face.

"You really are a nice guy," I breathe.

He looks taken back by my statement, "Please, by all means, stay the night."

I blanch.

"In the guest bedroom," he confirms as he sees the look on my face, "It's late, and we can get things figured out in the morning."

I hesitate; lying in a room of his apartment will only have me feeling more ashamed and hurt. Every minute I'm here is another minute I'll gain as I think about him when I leave, and I can't afford that.

"Please, Ana, _please_ let me do this for you. After seeing the look on your face when I…" he sighs heavily, running his hands through his hair, just like when I told him I was virgin, "I need to make it up to you, I want to make it up to you. Your too innocent for your own good," he smiles softly.

My eyes shift to my knotted fingers, "I can't stay."

"What about a hotel room? I can get you a room tonight and then an early flight in the morning if you wish," he begs, "I just… I just never want to see you so helpless and scared like tonight, I will do and give anything for that image to be erased off from my thoughts – I would do anything just to make sure you never feel that way again."

"Okay," I concede, not able to look him straight in the eyes, "I'll go to a hotel tonight. But honestly, you don't have to pay -," He cuts me off.

"I'm going to." He says demands simply, "I'll have my driver bring you to the location, and you can ask him to stop anywhere you'd like – it's all on me, of course."

I frown again, "Thank you." Knowing I'll just ask for a ride to the hotel.

Gathering my things, I walk to the elevator and step inside as Christian holds the door open with his hand. I lift my face to meet his anxious gaze.

"Goodbye, Ms. Steele," he leans in closer, "Never settle for less."

A tiny gasp escapes my mouth, "Goodbye, Christian." Before the doors get a chance to shut I say sincerely, "I hope you find her." I then descend to the lobby.

**Christian's POV**

I stand there in front of the metal elevator doors, feeling the words sink to my core of what that beautiful woman just wished upon me. _Oh, Ana…_

"I already did."

**So, tell me your exact thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, I am getting some great feedback about this story, so – low and behold – I am writing the second chapter!_

**Christian's POV**

I drag what's left of my mortal being to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard I take out a single wine glass – it would have been two if Anastasia was still here – and poor myself a cup of white wine. I then walk to my mass sofa and slump down into the cushions, contemplating about what happened tonight – something that has never happened before. The first would be obvious to rethink over when you're so use to being Christian Grey;

The first girl to say no to sex with me.

And I… salute her for it. Of course it came with her loathing herself, but she said no to one of the most desirable men in Seattle – In the middle of skin to skin sex more the less! I groan, rolling my head back on the sofa.

The second would be the look. _That _look that fluttered across her perfect face when she realized what she was doing, and how she was going about it. I cringe remembering the pain and emotional hurt that washed through her small structure. And the worst part was it wasn't against me, it was hate against herself. Something that I can't explain switched on inside me when she left the room, I wasn't dealing with some situation, I was on top of a real woman with fears, and joy, and ambitions and emotions, I was never going to look at her like she was a '_situation_' again, I plan on healing her from herself if it's the last thing I accomplish in life, above my fucked up past and my needs, or even my company – I'm going to show Anastasia how beautiful she is, inside and out.

I put the wine down on the glass table and roll onto my back as I rub my eyes – I don't know what the hell has happened to me, or why the fuck I'm having a melt down on my sofa, or what I feel for her – if you asked me less than twenty four hours ago I would have simply said '_fuck caring'_, but now it's all I'm thinking about doing. I rub the bridge of my nose as I try to make scenes of this feeling I have, as if I'm a fucking fifteen year old boy again!

I have a _crush_ on Anastasia.

**Anastasia's POV**

It takes all that I have not to break down in the small compartment of the elevator, so I stand there and watch as the floor numbers vary with each tick. I feel like I'm getting away from something horrible, but at the same time I feel like I'm losing something I can't put my finger on.

Th elevator pings open and I see the same man – Christian's personal security – waiting by the door for me.

"Ma'am," he says politely, holding the door open for me as I pass through, and then again when we reach the car door.

"Er, thanks," I say quietly, not use to this chivalrous behavior.

He stifles a laugh and shuts the door, and then gets into the driver's side.

"Miss. Steele, Mr. Grey has asked me to take you to the Pan Pacific hotel – is there anywhere else you'd like to stop before hand?"

"I may need sleep ware," I say quietly, almost embarrassed that I'm talking to a complete stranger about this.

He smiles embarrassed – at least I'm not the only one -, handing me a bag that was sitting in the front passenger seat. I blush scarlet thinking about him having to buy me pajamas.

"There's also a tooth brush and a comb, Ma'am," he coughs.

"Thank you – I think that's all then," I sigh, leaning against the leather seat that Christian must have spent countless hours in as he rode from conference to conference.

I wonder what he's doing right now. Is he already on the phone looking for another submissive? Or would he be in his study figuring out mergers and equations? Such an accomplished man, and at a very young age too, but so messed up behind closed doors. _At least he's not the one that had a mental break down in the middle of sex,_ my subconscious rolls her eyes. God, and the _sex_. Heaven only knows how many full chested experienced women he has under his belt and I get to be the one that makes a complete and utter fool out of myself, he must think I'm such a nut case. And now – _oh, God_ – now he's seen me _naked_. I pull my jacket around me tighter, and my ears start to warm.

"I'm sorry you have to do this," I say to rid my earlier thoughts.

He smiles kindly, "It's my pleasure, miss."

"How long have you been working for Christian?" I ask.

He hesitates; I can tell he's not use to small talk while driving, "About six years, Ma'am."

"Was he always so cryptic?" I murmur.

To my surprise Taylor burst out in laughter, composing himself within seconds, "Yes, Ms. Steele."

I smile, leaning against the leather seats once more and looking out the Seattle night sky.

We arrive in front of a massive glass building with various cars coming and going. The structure is very beautiful, with some portions of floors sticking out more than the others and balconies.

"Um, Taylor? Are you sure this is the hotel?" I gape. "I think I seen an AmericInn a few miles back."

He chuckles as he opens my door, grabbing the bag beside me.

"Yes, Ms. Steele, this is the correct location. Mr. Grey was very precise."

I step out of the car and the cold Seattle wind sways my plum dress. Running into the warm lobby I'm transfixed on the giant place. The colors a warm light brown, with glass tables, a lobby flat screen TV, and I smell a floral scent. I see a younger women walk up to me; her blond hair in a neat wrapped bun and her face smiling. She's wearing the hotel uniform with a black blazer over a purple dress shirt, a black skirt, and heals that click as she walks.

She reaches over and shakes my hand, "Hi, My name's Jennifer," she flashes her name tag with a kind smile. "I'm a worker here at the Pan pacific hotel, how may I help you?"

I blush, she must have spotted my gaping, "Um, hi, I'm Anastasia Steele."

"Beautiful name – and are you staying here?" Again her pearly white smile gleams behind her red lipstick.

I nod, and she motions for me to follow her to the front desk.

"I have reservations here," I bite my lip.

I watch as she clicks through her computer information, "Oh, yes, by Mr. Grey! And the pent house too," she winks.

Taylor is then by my side, it doesn't escape me that he has just put his phone away in his pocket.

"Ms. Steele," he nods, "Is everything arranged?"

I nod, "Thank you for driving me here."

"I'll also be picking you up for the airport in the morning," he says as he shifts on his legs.

I groan and roll my eyes; _I am perfectly capable of catching a cab, Mr. Grey!_ I yell from the roof tops in my head. I sigh, "Okay," I grumble, "Would ten o'clock be fine?"

He nods curtly and hands me the bag with my clothes, and then tips his head once with a goodbye. I turn to Jennifer.

"Can I ask you a favor?" I ask shyly.

"MmHm, by all means," she persists.

"Well, um, could you show me to the pent house sweet? With my luck I'll get lost." I laugh lightly.

She chuckles, "Of course – this way." She then leads me to the very top floor.

I'm sitting on the hotel bed facing the vas ceiling-to-floor windows that give me a beautiful view of the Seattle space needle. It's lit up and the glowing lights outline the tall exterior as the head lights and tail lights of cars drive past below.

I'm still in awe of the hotel room Christian so generously set up for me to stay in tonight – all though a Holiday Inn would have surfaced just the same. I'm sitting here in my purple PJ's that Christian has bought for me, and eating Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia straight from the carton. My hair a messy bun piled on top of my head.

This hotel room is very _new_, with its Asian-influenced decor, Keurig coffee makers, and hanging pictures and vase' of art makes it beautiful. I guess this is what Christian must feel like all the time, but it does seem it would be very lonely – but, of course, he has his subs, perhaps they tag along one business trips…? I sigh, I have to stop this.

I pick up the phone and dial.

"Hello?" a drowsy Kate answers.

"Hi," I say back, "It's -,"

"Ana! How's Seattle?" she says, suddenly awake.

"Good," I say simply.

"Are you with Christian right now? Is he in the room? Oh my God, did you already lose your V-card!" she giggles, and I can tell she has sat up with anticipation.

"Kate, never say that word again," I blush, "And no, Christian isn't here." I say with a bit of Melancholy, "I asked to leave early and he set me up at the Pan Pacific hotel," I say as I pick at an imaginary spot on the blanket.

"Oh," she says sadly, "Things didn't work out, huh, Hun?"

"You could say that," I sigh.

"What, was he a complete ass hole to you? Did you try to pressure you into sex? Because if he did I will personally drive to Seattle and -,"

"No, Kate, It's nothing like that," I shake my head, "We're just_ incompatible_," I probably would have gotten away with my smooth persona if my voice hadn't had cracked…

"Ana, sweetie, what happened?" she soothes.

…then again, I probably wouldn't have.

I take a breath, "Nothing, Kate, he's a really good man, but…" I shrug, "I'll just have to forget about him." My heart clenches.

"But -," she begins.

"Listen, Kate, I have to go – I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" I say before the ace in my chest expands and she hears the tears in my voice, "Bye," I say softly and then hang up the phone.

My face falls as I come to the inevitable conclusion; I'll have to forget about ever meeting Christian Grey.

**Christian's POV**

I can never let Anastasia slip through my grasp again.

_**Pictures on my Pinterest page! Please follow JacklynnMadison, and my page; I Wish Things were Different!;) Pictures already posted!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Anastasia's POV**

I sit at the breakfast bar of the vas hotel room Christian has set me up in, eating a bagel and looking out the huge windows I contemplate about the day ahead of me – trying my best not to think of that broad jaw, or those hypnotizing grey eyes, and definitely _not_ that tousled just-fucked wild copper hair thing that he has going for him.

_Dammit, Ana_, I scold myself.

Sighing, I stand up and run my fingers through my just showered, and nearly dry, hair. Letting it cascade down my back in layers when I hear a knock at the door, making me jump. I scramble to the door and look through the tiny peep hole, finding Taylor standing in the hallway with a deadpan expression. I unlock the door.

"Hey, Taylor," I smile.

"Good morning, Ma'am," he responds.

We stand there in awkward silence for numerous seconds until it's just plain uncomfortable. I gesture for him to come in.

"Oh, no, Ma'am, that won't be necessary." He declines, "Are you all set for the trip back home?"

"Mm-hm," I say as I gather my small clutch and the bag with my Pj's. "Erm… should I give these back…?" I bite my lip.

He actually chuckles, "No, Ma'am, those are yours to keep."

I step out of the room and begin to walk to the elevators as Taylor shuts the door behind me.

When we arrive at SEA I turn to Taylor, "Thank you, Taylor – for everything." I smile kindly; knowing that this may very well be the last time I'll get to.

"You're welcome, Ma'am," he nods, giving me a medium sized gray gift bag with an envelope that I didn't even notice him holding behind his back, "Mr. Grey wanted me to give you this, it is from him of course, and this is your plane ticket."

I look at the bag skeptically, not knowing what lies in between the neatly wrapped tissue paper. It could be anything…

"He requested that you open it when you get on the plane," he adds.

I sigh with some reassurance – if it can be opened in public it can't be that bad. But I still hate gifts.

Saying good-bye I gather my things – noting that the bag does carry some weight – and I board the plane.

"Um, Miss," I bite my lips, squinting around at the seat names_, E1… B7..D4…_ Where the hell his G14?

"Yes, Ma'am?" I sigh inwardly at false address the flight attendant gives me.

"I'm having trouble finding my spot," I point at the paper, "G14?"

She smiles, "follow me."

To my great surprise she leads me past the coach seating arrangements, all the way through the curtain's doors in the very back, and into the first class section.

"Um, I think there's a mistake," I admit shakily as I look around at Seattle high riches, I then realize who bought me the ticket – _Christian_!

"No, Mistake," she reassures as she take a peek at my ticket, "You are Ms. Anastasia Steele, right?"

"Yes, but -,"

"No, Mistake, Ms. Steele," she winks, gesturing for me to sit down.

It's a small clean cubical with an almost bubble like wall around the baize long seat. There are cup holders on one side of the plush arm rests and a small TV on the overhead, with a pillow, blanket, head phones, and a sleeping mask; it all sits by the bright window.

The flight attendant – I believe her name is Mary – disappears as I sit down in my own personal cubical. _Jeez, I might as well be alone while I open the bag after all._

Moments later she returns with complimentary peanuts and wine, I accept the peanuts as I lay back in my seat – that also converts into a bed – and I begin to unravel the tissue paper.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen – we will be arriving to the Portland airport (PDX) in approximately one hour and nine minutes; we will be landing at 11:40. Please sit back and enjoy the ride – and thank you for choosing us for your flying services._" The pilots' voice says smoothly over the loud speaker.

My fingers stumble with the package of the roasted nuts, but after minutes of anxious pulling it the silver bag finally tears. I set it in the cup holder and continue to my task.

My fingertips feel the smooth screen before my eyes see it. I slide out of the gray gift bag a good sized, flat, IPAD. I gape at the inappropriate device as I slide my hand across smooth glass screen and before my eyes it lights up and comes to life. I slide my finger across the unlock emoticon and the darkened background comes a light with square apps.

The plane descends from the run way – momentarily making my ears pop and shifting my attention – before I plug in the head phones to a small import plugin to the side and gasp when I see the selection of songs he's chosen to me. _This is exactly what I listen to_! How did he know this?

A ping rings my ears when I see I have an email.

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: IPAD **

**Date: May 1****st**** 2011, 10:39**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

I surely hope you're adjusting well to first class, Anastasia, remember what I said – _never settle for less_. It gives me great pleasure to give you this IPAD as an apology and a compromise.

The apps on here are for_ your _pleasure. There is a library with the best English literature, and a music app (with some of my favorites already included), there is also a good food app – just a keen reminder ;) Please keep in mind you can add anything to this IPAD, including apps, music, books, anything. It's yours, but it's all on me.

_Christian Grey, CEO, Grey enterprises holdings, Inc._

I roll my head back against the leather seat, closing my eyes as a small groan sounds – _so much for keeping a distance_. But an _IPAD_! Really? This is hardly something you'd give a friend of twenty years, let alone a person of twenty hours. This man has more money than sense.

After a few more minutes of stalling I type back a response.

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Over the top**

**Date May 1****st**** 2011, 10:45**

**To: Christian Grey**

Mr. Grey, this is hardly something that you'd give a person for an apology _or_ a compromise. This is too much and I'll send it back to you as soon as I land in Portland. And for the record you have nothing to apologize for, and I mean this with the purest of sincerity. And may I add that you surely have more money than you know what to do with if you're spending it on me – a girl that you have only knonw for a short amount of time?

I am very grateful that you have thought to do this but I can't accept.

PS. What is this compromise?

I hit send and wait.

**Christian's POV**

I stand in my office looking out the floor to ceiling one way windows at the Seattle Skyline, the buildings, and the cars and people as they pass below. How did I get here? _Perseverance._ What do I want in life? _For my business to grow and for less people to go hungry._ What else do I want? This question stops me short. You see, I knew what I wanted a week ago. I knew how to get it, and I knew how to trap and make it mine. But since she entered my office I can't say that I've been at more of an impasse.

My email pings, bringing me back to the present, and I walk to my desk. My eyes scan the email and a heavy sigh sounds through my office at the stubbornness of this tiny woman, a woman who could bring me to my knees and lead me into the decision of even considering the fucking friend zone. My fingers glide over the keyboard with expertise.

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Not in your life**

**Date: May 1****st**** 2011, 10:47**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

There is no way that you will be sending anything back to me. Keep the IPAD or so help me I will send you more goodies on occasion and there will be no way to escape it. As for my bank account – trust me when I say that I only put it to the best of use.

I have more than enough to apologize for, Ana, I was dumb, and frankly it was obtuse of me to think that you would accept being my submissive. I was clouded by my own needs that I forgot about yours. Accept the apology and accept the IPAD because I'm giving you both.

_Christian Grey, CEO, Grey enterprises holdings Inc._

With one swift motion I tap send and wait for a moment or two before realizing that I haven't answered her PS.

'_I want to be your friend_.' I type simply and with honesty.

I wait for a minute.

'_But you know nothing about me_.'

Do I hear a bit on melancholy coloring her emotionless email?

'_I know enough_.'

'_But why - on God's green earth - would you want to be_ my _friend_?'

Aw, I see what this is now. She's concerned about the different classes we are in in the game we play called life. She thinks too little of herself. If only she knew that I held the same worry – _why would she want to be my friend? I'm nothing if not a controlling ass hole. _

'_Being the CEO of my own company I need to have the instinct of knowing when I meet a good character, Anastasia. I need to know if their thoughts are genuine or if their trying to screw me out of a business deal. I need to know if their trying to play me, or if they honestly have good intentions. And I see that in you, Ana. You're a good person and I would like more than anything to be you're friend for now.'_ I slyly add the last two words for my liking.

Minutes pass by as I anxiously wait for her response. Bordering on the fine line of anxious and downright giddy, I finally get a response back.

'_I'd like that too_.'

I'm grinning as I let out a satisfied breath and sit back in my swivel chair; those three little words making my day exceptionally brighter.

**Anastasia's POV**

After the comfortable and relaxing flight back to Portland – and a few emails back a forth to Christian – I walk into my apartment complex. Going up the stairs I take out my keys and begin to jiggle them into the door handle. Just then Kate pops her head through the door, scaring the crap out of me.

"Kate!" I shout, clutching my shirt, "What are you doing?!"

"Um, Ana, what the hell happened in Seattle?"

My brow furrows, "I told you over the phone…"

"No." she says firmly, "There _has_ to be more."

I sigh, "There is nothing, Kate. Just let me in," I say as I push on the door.

"I don't think you want to come in here…"

"Why not?" I whine, just wanting to go inside, crash on the couch and sleep.

"Just because."

"Because _WHY_?" I say loudly. _Whoa, I hardly use that tone with Kate._

She sighs after moment, "Alright you asked for it, Kid."

She swings the door _wide_ open and steps out of my way.

Our apartment is full of decorative gift baskets filled with only God knows what. On the kitchen counter, the couch, the floors, the dining table… _I walk to my bedroom_… and my bed.

I set my things down on my dresser and run my fingers through my hair, "Kate? Is this some type of weird joke?" I breathe.

She shakes her head as she answers a knock at the door, "I'm guessing it isn't, Sweetie… because you just received a computer." She swallows, bringing the box in.

I slump in the first available chair I see and blow a strand of hair out of my face.

"Oh, Honey," Kate sympathizes with me. Walking to my side and rubbing my arms, "It isn't that bad. You could do worse than a guy who cares about ya, Steele."

I lean my head against stomach, "But how am _I_ supposed to forget about _him_?" I whimper.

Later that night after hours and hours of opening Christian's gifts I now have a pile of more first addition books, essentials, gift cards to major clothing's stores – which Kate will be getting sooner rather than later -, a computer, a black berry, and a Charlie Tango balloon – which, against my better judgment, I giggled at, remembering just yesterday night.

Opening the last one I mindlessly look out the window, trying to get my mind off a man who can't love me. But it's impossibly hard when – literally – everywhere you look he's surrounding you in some way, shape, or form. Why oh why do I have to feel such a strong connection to Christian-so-fucking-complicated-Grey. I know that if I choose to accept him – along with everything else that he bestows upon me – it'll end horribly. _You're half way there, Steele._

Today on the plane I thought about that truce; a simple black, glossy, thick line that could separate fact from reality. Fact; I want to be with him, Reality; that's just not in the cards for us, Fact; He could be so nice at times, Reality; he whips and fucks women for pleasure, Fact; I hate that I love so much about him, Reality; I love that I hate so much about him. Fact; I want love, that he can't give, Reality; I also want Christian.

But that's why I agreed. If I would have repented he would have tried harder which would have just wasted his time, and possible many others. Now that he's knows I'm an arm's length away I can _stay_ an arm's length away, until he just stops trying anymore and finds what he needs, I then will slowly slip away from his world. Yes, its hearts churning, but I'm not prevailing.

As I sort through the things that sits in this wicker basket my hand touches a stiff paper. Opening it up I see his elegant hand writing in the forms of a quote;

_"You cannot give up chasing after happiness simply because there might be pain down the road." _

I don't know anymore.

I don't know anything.

I don't know if he means this simply because he never wants _me_ to give up on finding happiness, or that this is ment for _him_ not going to give up on me. Or perhaps it's in reference to the fact that he thinks I'd be happy being his sub even though there'll be '_pain_'. Pick your poison.

But each choice lights a spark within me and I can't help the dry sob that escapes my throat and burns my lips. And before I know it I'm sitting against my bed a total mess in the hands of Christian – and he's nowhere near! Why does everything have to be so choppy a cris crossed?!

Moments later I wipe my eyes as I stand with a huff. I walk straight into Kate's room and blush as I open the door; I see Elliot and Kate and the kissing fest of 2011. Elliot embarrassingly hops up from his spot, as Kate stays as cool as a cucumber.

"What's up, Steele?" she shifts so she sitting cross legged.

"Do you want to go to the club tonight?" I say with a strange surge of energy, but blushing.

She slides off the bed until she's standing in front of me, a huge smile plastered on her face.

"Hell, yeah! Know that's what I'm talking 'bout!"

I grin back.

"You up for it, Elliot, boy?" Kate says playfully as she winks at him.

"I'm game," he pulls on his shirt.

"Okay then," Kate cheers, "we'll leave in thirty."

Arriving at the club Kate and I walk to the front entrance way, flashing our ID's and walking in, the music so loud I feel my heart thumping along with it.

"You ready, Ana?" Kate shouts over the people.

"Let's just have fun before I change my mind," I say biting my lip and blushing.

She hugs my side, "Don't worry, I won't let you get into any trouble tonight." We then descend to the bar.

I can't remember how long it had been since we arrived that night, or how many drinks I've had before everything became a giant blur. But, I do remember standing by the bar raising my glass, "This is for life!" I slurred, "And how it always manages to fuck its self-up!"

Everyone cheered and drank their own, Kate sitting on Elliot's lap on a bar stool. Her arm around his neck as she tilted her head back and drank.

The last thing I remember is the oh-so comforting feel of the warm liquid amber sliding down my throat and total bliss.

_**HEY!**__ So, Ana isn't going to become a slut on a mission, nor is this going to be her nightly routine – and no, she will not get so drunk that she sleeps with a random bar guy! This is just Ana trying to forget for one night. I hope you like it! _

So, what did you think his note ment? O.O


End file.
